Regular Joe
by Sushi Chi
Summary: Regular Joe. That's all Dean wanted to find. Turns out that harder than it sounds.


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Disclaimer: I only own the idea. Not the characters.  
A/N: Hope you like the story. The idea entered in my head and I had to write it. It was lots of fun. Many thanks to be my beta, Amarintha.

Dean felt a smile tug at his lips as he opened the door into the shop. The aroma hit his nose, causing his mouth to water. Licking his lips he ignored the bell that announced his presence. His whole body was aquiver from just the thought of what he was going to get. He nodded to the people nearest him, knowing they shared the same addiction as he had. And he needed his fix now. His mouth felt dry, thinking about how long it had been since he last had some. Hours. It had been hours. Or was it a day? Oh god, he hoped it wasn't a day. He felt his smile grow wider as he got closer to the counter of shop. His body needed it, he knew Sam could tell. Whenever he hadn't had any in a while, he tended to get moody.

Sam meanwhile ducked as he went through the door, following his brother. Despite the fact that he wasn't as addicted to the drink as Dean was, he still craved it. He knew Dean needed it soon. He was getting moody again: never good. Whenever the eldest brother started getting this way, Sam got him more and Dean calmed down. When Sam didn't get any he didn't really change. For him it was just something he enjoyed. He didn't need it. He could see how Dean's body seemed to tremble with the need. Luckily they were in the store and Dean would get his fix soon. Thank god.

Dean walked up to the smooth counter surface and smiled to the girl across from him. Her reddish brown hair with natural blonde highlights was pulled back in a pony tail, her earrings just gold studs which accented her lightly tanned skin and ice blue eyes. He felt his smile turn into a smirk, "I'd like to get your number."

She giggled, cheeks flushing pink, "Sir, that is not on the menu."

Giving a crooked smile Dean replied, "Alright then, how about a coffee?"

She nodded, "What kind would you like?"

He blinked. What kind? "Uh. Coffee."

She rolled her eyes, "Sir, what kind of coffee do you want?"

The hell was she talking about? "I just want plain coffee."

"What?" She raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Coffee, y'know. Uh. Comes from coffee beans. I kinda thought that you guys would sell it here 'cause, y'know, this is a coffee shop." Dean was getting aggravated. Why were they hoarding all the coffee? He wanted his coffee. No, he _needed _his coffee

"Yeah, this is a coffee shop," she was starting to sound annoyed, "Now if you would only tell me what kind you want-"

"Coffee!" Dean said, wondering what the girl's problem was, "I just want some coffee!"

"I get that sir, but what kind?!" She was meeting his tone of voice, not backing down.

"I just want coffee! Plain coffee. Should be simple enough for you to get."

"I don't know what you're talking about," The girl sighed, "Just please, tell me what kind of coffee you want."

Sam choose this moment to put in his order, "Miss? I'd like white chocolate mocha frappuccino with non-fat milk and no whip."

The girl smiled, "That sounds easy enough. Be right up, sir."

Dean gaped. What the hell just happened? And what the hell did Sam just order? Dean didn't hear the word 'coffee' at all. He turned towards his younger brother, staring at him. He shook his head, unable to wrap around the fact that this 'coffee shop' didn't sell coffee. That was false advertising.

She came back and handed Sam is concoction, then turned back to Dean, smile gone, "Have you decided what you want yet?"

"Yeah, I want coffee," Dean stated again.

"Sir," She started, strain in her voice, "it's like I've been saying, if you'd only tell me what kind you want I can get you your coffee."

"I want coffee. Just coffee," He spoke slowly.

"Sir-"

"Can you get me your manager?" Dean suggested.

She smiled, glad to pawn the inane customer off, "Sure. Give me a sec."

Sam sipped his white chocolate mocha frappuccino with non-fat milk and no whip with a slight smirk. Shaking his head, he leaned against the counter, knowing it could be a while before Dean got what he wanted.

Before long a middle aged man came up. His hair a plain brown and needed a cut, eyes sunken in and dark against pale skin, "Sir, Ashley tells me that you have a problem. May I try my best to help you with it?"

"Want to know what my problem is? Ashley won't give me any coffee," Dean stated.

"I'll get you your coffee," the man smiled, "What kind would you like?"

Dean sighed, "Coffee. Just plain black coffee."

The man's smiled faded, "What?"

"God, you people don't sell coffee here do you?" Dean needed his coffee now, or he'd go nuts, "I want black coffee. That's it."

Swallowing, the man nodded, "I'm sure I can get some of that. What kind of black coffee do you want?"

"What?" Dean's voice low.

"We've got Brazil ipanema, breakfast blend, Guatemala antigua, house blend, terraza blend, Arabian, sulawesi, and Italian roast are our most popular."

"Coffee. I want. Plain. Black. Regular. Coffee." Dean replied, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

Sam noted his brother's hands and decided he had better get Dean out of there before something regrettable happened, "Dean," he put a hand on his brother's shoulder, "how about we go to a restaurant and I get you your plain black regular coffee." He kept his voice light, not wanting to push Dean over the edge, after all, he got moody when he didn't have his coffee.

Dean nodded and turned his back on the man, "Why does this place call itself a coffee shop?" he muttered under his breath as he made his way out to the street, "All I wanted was a regular cup of joe."


End file.
